authenticity

The first thing I do after I open my eyes in the morning is talk to God. Then, I talk to Farmer Dean. Then, I turn the music on at my house.

My brother calls it “grocery store music,” but I call it music from the 1940s and 50s. It’s soothing to my soul. As a matter of fact, sometimes it takes me back to being a little child, shopping with my mother at the Hy-Vee in Clarinda, Iowa.

Once the grocery store music is playing throughout the house, I talk to people. The house phone rings. The cell phone rings. People … people … people.

The doors are opened to let the cool sounds of summer rain into my office, while the dripping drops plop onto the lawn furniture. A screech of tires go past on the road outside the house, and a familiar honk of a large semi toots “hello” as it passes the little church.

All of these things bring me comfort. All of these things relate to sound. I love sound.

As a former Worship Director, I had music playing continuously. I needed to listen to the latest and greatest so that my congregation could keep up with what was relevant.

Sounds are a constant in this world.

When Dean and I travel, we throw in a CD and listen to a pastor preach. Or, I read a book out loud to the two of us.

When Dean and I are at home, we have the TV blaring the most recent news, or we have a CD of birds and music floating through the house.

But whatever I’m doing, wherever I am, I have to have sound.

That is … until last week.

Last week I was with my granddaughter, Cordelia. Cordie and I decided to play with Play dough at the big old farm table. I quick jumped up after I got everything set out and said to her, “I forgot, I’ll quick put the Little Mermaid CD in.”

And then it happened. A three year old looked up from her masterpiece of a play dough snowman and said, “We don’t need sound, Nan. We just need quiet.”

Huh? What? No sound. I don’t think I can do it.

She looked directly at me and said, “Please, Nan, sit down. Let’s just play in the quiet.”

And we did.

You know what happened? I was at Peace. I felt Patience. I was Listening. I was fully Attentive. I was Engaged. I was Resting.

A three year old taught me a lesson I needed to re-learn. That sometimes the quiet is what works best. Sometimes in quiet we can get more done, we can rest our weary minds and souls, we can embrace something that is so necessary in today’s world.

This topic takes me back to 6th grade. A girl who had been in my same classes year after year, just didn’t like me. walked home with her from school and said, “I’m so sorry we haven’t gotten along very well. I’d really like to try to be friends.”

If that wasn’t real and authentic, I don’t know what was. I remember feeling like I’d poured everything from my heart right out onto the sidewalk.

Without missing a beat she looked straight at me and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boom. That was it. I recoiled inside myself and thought I’m never pouring my heart out again. Oh, but I did. So much so, that Dad told me one day, Kathleen if you have any character flaws it’s this one for sure … you wear your heart on your sleeve.

Open and honest. That’s how I like to be. Vulnerable …. well that’s scary. But genuine, that’s more my speed. What about you? When we’re thinking about being authentic and not being fake but really truly being real in our everyday life … what people see is what they get, how are you doing?

That’s authenticity to the core. Real … believable. No shame. No hiding. No embarrassment. Just real.

And what about that vulnerability factor? Well, if you’re anything like me and you’ve had the trust kicked right out of you, vulnerable isn’t something you want to be. But in order to truly reach people at a deep level, you have to allow yourself to display these things: authenticity, realness and vulnerability.

The down side … people can hurt us. They can look you smack in the eyes and say “Huh? I don’t get it.” Because guess what … they’re not being real. Or you can risk being vulnerable and have people make fun of you, laugh at you, or be unkind to you. That’s painful. I know.

I think about some serious times in my life when I was really hurt, but sometimes it’s the funny ones that stick in the forefront of your brain.

I remember getting up in front of 400 people at one of my church services and saying my usual, “Good morning, and welcome.” I’d start out with something emotional or funny, or something to connect them to the sermon topic. Mostly, it would be about scripture, sometimes about Farmer Dean.

One day I told the congregation about how I mistook the back field of soybeans for corn. I was new to the farm, saw the short crop and thought something was terribly wrong with the corn. Until Farmer Dean told me, “those are soybeans.”

The crowd roared. In my vulnerability, I was proving a point. That I made mistakes just like the next guy. And you know what the vulnerability did? It made me closer to everyone of those people. We laughed together at my silliness and I let them in to my soul. They didn’t ransack. They didn’t ridicule. They just embraced me for my authenticity. I told them the truth. I make silly mistakes.

Here’s what I know about Being Authentic and Real …

It takes maturity to do this.

You have to be comfortable with who you are.

You have to trust others

It makes you stronger

It opens you up to criticism, jealousy, and the pickers … people who are going to pick you apart because your heart is open and on the table.

It can make people mad (because they’re not real)

It can get you in trouble because sometimes closed people resent authenticity.

It’s the best choice to be your best.

Scripture tells us in Proverbs 12:22 “Lying lips are abomination to the Lord: but they that deal truly are his delight.”

Are we dealing truthfully with one another? With ourselves? Just try it this week. Try being your real self. Just real.

Who knows, maybe people will laugh right alongside of you, and become even closer to you because you were truly authentic and real. Maybe you’ll think that corn is soybeans, and life will still continue … just maybe.